


Birds of a Feather

by Miss_Lv



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Schmoop, Smut, Wing Kink, bottom!Dean, wing!porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/pseuds/Miss_Lv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean starts slowly changing, gaining angelic abilities and features and it's up to Castiel to guide him into his new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

“Dean.” Castiel breathed out with a low reverent tone, staring openly while Dean resisted the urge to sink under the blanket like a kid. They reacted to the urge though, trying to curl in close to him and the left one knocked everything on the nightstand off, the alarm clock, his cell, and a plastic cup of water crashing to the floor.

“I can’t fucking control them,” he hissed between clenched teeth, hating that he needed help, that this was even happening to him.

“It’s normal, fledglings often struggle,” the angel replied, eyes trained on the pair of arching wings currently attached to Dean’s back. Forlornly he sat on his bed, wearing only jeans since he had huge fucking wings sprouting from his back. They were a mix of white and browns, spotted and colored like a bird of prey. At least he had that, instead of fluffy girly white wings.

Tipping his chin up, Dean tried his best to look pissed at being compared with a fledgling, which he was going to assume meant a baby. Great, he was on par with an angelic newborn.

The left wing shot out again and flapped awkwardly before banging the headboard and wall, arching out enough to knock the shitty print off the wall. The glass shattered as it hit the floor but Dean barely heard it as his wing throbbed from slamming into the hard corner of the headboard.

It was a bizarre feeling, just like the wings themselves, muscles he’d never had before suddenly present like he’d grown another limb or something. The pain smarted and he wanted to reach out and grab it, like he would if he hurt his arm. The stupid wing tried to curl in and nearly smacked him in the face. Dean snatched a hand out to push it away and he could feel it, feel his own hand on his own wing.

“Jesus, I can’t deal with this Cas,” he rasped, hating how weak he sounded but knowing utterly that this was too much.

“Dean,” Castiel began, approaching slowly and pausing when one of the wings twitched. “You were the vessel of Michael.”

“For like five minutes!”

“And you are one of the very few people to survive being an archangel’s vessel,” He spoke on as if Dean hadn’t cut in. “It is rare and what is happening to you is a result of bearing an archangel inside you, however short a time.”

“One: that sounds dirty in the worst way man, and two: I figured it would be all awesome powers, not being able to hear thoughts I really don’t want to hear and see people’s dirty freaky sins painted on them. Not growing fucking wings over night,” Dean shot back furiously and his wings agreed, because they slammed back again and the sting of the wall slapping them made him wince and slump forward on the bed, the stupid things made him fall awkwardly until he face planted and they draped over the bed and along the motel floor. Dean decided that he was just going to go with it, slowly smother himself into the crappy bedspread until the entire problem went away.

The soft touch of Castiel hand on his shoulder forced some of the tension from him, his back fucking ached with having to use nonexistent muscles. With some tentativeness, the angel seated himself on the bed with Dean and his hand slid down, fingers splayed out along the knobs of Dean’s spine. Stopping at the small junction between his shoulder blades and wings, heat seeped from his hand and Dean swallowed a sigh as the pain there faded.

“I wish I could make this simple for you, if only to end your complaining.”

The wry tone dragged a low halfhearted painful laugh from Dean, muffled by the bedspread. Turning his head to the side he looked up at the trench coat wearing nerdy angel beside him.

“Why can’t Sam see them?” The question came hoarsely and felt like a punch to his gut, the twisted mess of emotions that were now associated with his little brother showing. Sam had thought it was freaky physic powers that had knocked shit around and freaked Dean out this morning. The weak thoughts that maybe Dean could understand him better had only worked him up until he kicked his brother out, commanding him to stay away and call Castiel. Logically Dean knew that Sam couldn’t control his thoughts and that the flood of guilt that followed the errant hope showed his true nature better then the dark little thoughts that crept through him, that crept through everyone, on display for Dean who was still struggling to learn how to block them. But no matter what Dean reasoned out, the dark marks of demon blood lingering in Sam still kept him tense. The brothers were still struggling to reconnect and Dean loved his brother, but his mind was plagued with it’s own dark twisted little worries.

“No human could, a few supernatural creatures might but for the most part humans cannot see them,” the tightness in his chest eased up a bit and he huffed, feeling his wings go all slumped, lying wherever they freaking pleased.

“This is a good thing, I imagine instinct alone has prevented them from being visible. I do not know if they would…effect people,” the pause sent up a red flag and Dean sat up, nearly slapping Castiel in the face with his left wing as he frowned at him.

“Are you saying these things could be the kind that burn people’s eye balls out?” He demanded angrily and Castiel glowered right back up at him for a moment before breaking eye contact. He looked over the twitchy limbs, seeming to concentrate on them keenly.

“I do not believe so. Given that you are a human experiencing angelic abilities rather then an angel alone I would judge that your abilities will not harm other humans.”

“But you don’t know,” Dean finished impatiently and Castiel spared him another irritated look before finally giving a tight nod. “I do not.”

“Shit. I need to hole up somewhere, hide until I can control this and make it go away,” running his hands through his hair, Dean tried to think of places isolated enough to hide. Maybe if he could find a cabin far out in the wilderness of something, miles away from people who he could harm.

“Dean,” the reproachful tone and firm hand on his shoulder made him turn to face Castiel, ready to argue with the angel. But he had that soft look on his face, the normally stoic feature relaxed a touch to let some emotion filter though.

“If I thought for a moment you were dangerous, truly a threat to others, I would have taken you somewhere secure immediately. I would not let you wear the burden of innocent lives lost.” Sometimes when he spoke there was a touch of power behind his words, something that screamed otherworldly to Dean. Right now it was there, making it sound like the idea that Dean doubt him for a second was beyond brainless and of course Castiel was in control here, had the situation in hand firmly.

“Right,” he dimly replied, unsure what to say in the face of such absolution but feeling the panic in his chest give way. “I’m just trying to keep my cool here man, I mean freaky mind powers are one thing, but waking up with a new pair of limbs, with wings? I hate flying,” Dean confessed with a sour expression and Castiel tilted his head a touch, a tiny movement that let Dean know he was pleased that Dean calmed down, trusted him. They always had a weird harmonization between them, and since surviving the would-be-apocalypse and getting angel powers, it only seemed stronger.

“I’m not sure what I can do beyond showing you basic control, if you wish I can request help from Gabriel or-” Dean cut him off right away with a dismissive gesture.

“No. No freaking way, no other angels unless absolutely needed. As few dicks as possible.”

Castiel gave him the slightest hint of a smirk and Dean watched him wearily for a moment before catching on and rolling his eyes with a scoff.

“What happened to the days when you were an innocent nerdy tax accountant dude?” He questioned, but felt far more at ease, even as his wings perked up a bit.

“You saw to my education with passionate fervor,” Castiel deadpanned back, looking utterly blank save for the hint of amusement in his eyes and Dean barked out a laugh. Grinning at the angel with a hint of pride, Castiel’s banter was improving.

Dean was caught up in sharing a look with him and so when his wing moved he barely had time to react. The stupid thing fumbled on the bed and reached out, feathers stretching to circle around Castiel, inches from touching him. In the shelter of the looming thing Castiel sat very still, enough that Dean knew something was off. He tried to tell his wing to move, turned his body a bit hoping the appendage would get the message but his worry for Castiel somehow overrode what he wanted and his wing gently fluttered down until it cloaked Castiel’s back and shoulder.

“Sorry man,” Dean apologized, embarrassed, before he twisted himself away, his wing slowly dragging along Castiel until he was out of its greedy reach. Seated on the edge of the bed, he repositioned himself so he faced Castiel who was turned away from him. Dean had felt him, felt the warmth seeping into his wing before he pulled it back, the phantom pressure still lingering.

“Dean,” Castiel’s uneven tone grabbing his attention, the angel only ever sounded undone when… well when they were fooling around. Unconsciously he leaned forward a touch and Castiel responded, facing him and lifting his arm to reach out and curl his fingers at the back of Dean’s neck, tugging him in until their mouths collided. 

This was still new for him. Dean had admittedly swung towards guys a few times but Castiel wasn’t a guy, it was a freaking angel.

Dean had given up trying to welcome anyone in after the disaster with Cassie, but Castiel was already a part of the hunting world. Angel or not he had stood shoulder to shoulder with Dean and Sam, had thrown his lot in with them and somewhere along the way become one of them, a member of their group, family even if Dean was feeling girly.

So this wasn’t something momentary or fleeting, this was Dean edging into a... a relationship with the angel. Stomping down the worries that line of thinking was dragging up, Dean let thinking go entirely and focused on the feel of Castiel’s mouth. Chapped lips and a little too much pressure on the angel’s part, he usually left Dean’s mouth bruised and swollen, reminders that while he looked it, Castiel was far from human.

Leaning in more, Dean snaked an arm under the baggy trench coat and urged Castiel closer. Before he could though, the wings snaked in, bumping into one another as they fumbled and cocooned around Castiel’s form, engulfing him in feathers. 

“God damn it,” Dean groaned when he broke the kiss, leaning back and dragging Castiel with him when the wings refused to let him go. The dark look he gave Dean could have been from the wings tenacious attitude or his blasphemous cursing. But before Dean could decide an unwavering pressure forced his wings to let Castiel go, opening them wide as black inky feathers came up over Castiel’s shoulders. Dark wings, fuller and larger them his own easily over powering Dean’s own set.

“I assume you can see them clearly now?” Castiel questioned, tone calm and unaware of the annoying awe that passed through Dean or the flush of dirty wicked want. His own wings went with the second emotion, trying to curl up against Castiel’s dark wings, enclose them in their hold. Castiel’s own snapped wide, with a sharp sound, forcing Dean’s back in a smooth motion.

“Cas,” It was embarrassing how turned on he was, his body over heated and coiled with a sudden deep want. 

“There are few things humanity correctly documented about angels, but these were one of them,” Castiel began, voice lecturing with a heavy tone that went straight to Dean’s groin. Castiel’s hands pressed him back, Dean’s wings and back against the headboard.

While his fumbled and flapped inelegantly, Castiel’s wings loomed over him, utterly still and poised. One spread out, feathers curling towards Dean until the tips brushed his bare arm. “There is great meaning in touching another with your wings,” Castiel went on, watching Dean while he swallowed hard, his jean tented painfully. The touch was like a wisp of hot breath, it raised goose bumps and left a tingling sensation behind as the feathers dragged along his skin.

“Touching feather to feather is commonly reserved for lovers alone.” Dean’s gaze left the inky feathers trailing on his arm and snapped to the blue eyes watching him. It was a little mortifying when Dean’s own wings trembled, reaching out immediately to press along Castiels. He hated making the first moves, showing too much affection too fast, but his wings reacted to instinct, not mindless fears. Apprehensively he kept Castiel’s gaze as his wings curled in under the angels, not trying to encase them this time but letting Castiel’s own blanket over them. It seemed like dominance, Castiel not letting Dean enfold his own but making Dean’s submit and accept the shelter of his.

The sensation of feather on feather was strange for him, he was still struggling to get over the fact he had a pair of wings, or figure out how to make them listen to him instead of demolishing the motel. But the arousal thrumming through him was a familiar feeling and he let himself fall into it’s lull, feeling the freaky, not quite there but totally there sensation of his wings pressed against Castiel's own. It was also kinda dumb how much it turned Dean on. But he was getting used to strange quirks about the angel doing it for him.

“It is a significant act.”

“I get it, a show of trust or whatever,” Dean shot back, trying for cocky but his voice was too strained to pull it off.

“Our wings are manifestations of our grace. I imagine your own are a combination of what lingers from carrying Michael and your own soul laid to bare. To show them is an act of trust. To touch them…” Trailing off, Castiel tilted his head, eyes boring into Dean to communicate a weight words wouldn’t. Swallowing the nerves building, Dean reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling the angel in. He went without hesitation and they were kissing again, mouths pressing hard, both fighting to lead. Since the first fumbling times Castiel had been steadily seeking more, taking it, demanding. Dean was a little put off at first, so much, so fast, but now he’d relaxed into it, he liked to look at it as his personal corruption of the angel.

Carding his fingers through the dark hair, Dean swiped his tongue along rough lips and Castiel opened up. Once his tongue snaked into the wet hot mouth everything got messy, teeth knocking, spit trading and just dirtily delicious. Castiel sat back abruptly, yanking Dean with him without breaking the contact and he was pretty much in Castiel’s lap. He’d be embarrassed later, right now though he was busy mapping the angel’s mouth. Dean pulled at the stupid tie, loosening it enough to undo the top buttons of the rumpled dress shirt. Pulling at the fabric he exposed warm flesh and abandoned Castiel’s mouth to bury his face in the crook of his neck, teeth sinking into the salty skin, tasting and sucking hard to draw out low deep groans.

It had caught him off guard when Castiel turned out to be rough in the sack. For some reason he expected Castiel to be more clueless and careful, not the needy, forceful thing he became when they did this. He sure as hell didn’t expect to be on the receiving end either. After their first tumble he’d try to complain about it but the mind-reading angel had fixed him with a look that said he knew all to well just how much Dean really minded.

Hurried fingers fumbled on the stupid buttons and with an annoyed grunt, Dean finally just grabbed the edges of the shirt and yanked it open, buttons flying across the room. Smooth skin met his calloused hands and he pushed his palm flat, pressing against the bared flesh. Despite how human he looked, Castiel didn’t feel like one. He was immovable, body not giving at all if he didn’t choose to, he felt unbreakable. It was part of the reason Dean never held back, didn’t hesitate to sink his teeth in harder then he ever had with anyone else or to dig his fingers into skin and squeeze until they ached.

Castiel shifted, his wings pressed and trapped Dean’s own in their larger hold. Castiel’s forced them down easily and Dean, attached to the limbs, followed lying on his back. There was no room between them, legs tangled while Castiel held himself over the human on his elbows.

Castiel muttered low words, a language Dean didn’t know, and just let the man do as he pleased. One hand curled around Castiel’s middle under the shirt and coat, feeling the heat of his skin while his other hand fumbled with the belt and button of Castiel’s trousers, knuckles bumping the straining erection there.

His wings were all twitchy, shifting restlessly in the fold of Castiel’s own, rubbing against the onyx feathers. It was a surreal feeling, not something Dean could put a name to but it felt intimate. Not to mention it made the angel on top of him jerk his hips, shoving mindlessly in a search for friction that Dean was struggling to give him. Castiel caught one of Dean’s thighs between his own and a low groan tore from him when he rutted up against him.

Dean was trapped under him, Castiel wasn’t holding him tightly, one hand running along the curve of his arm, fingers running over the scar on his shoulder with a reverent touch while his other framed Dean’s head, holding the angel up mere inches from Dean, but he was still trapped. He knew he couldn’t push him off, could beat against his chest and never move him, and for whatever twisted reason Dean ate it up, fucking loved it. Arching his thigh up, he grinded it against Castiel before pulling it back, Dean’s hand snaking in under the waist of his briefs to curl around the angel’s cock. The weight and heat of it made Dean hiss while Castiel made his own obscene sounds, his wings curving in tightly against Deans as he pressed him into the mattress. Rubbing his thumb over the head, he felt the slickness of the precome there and felt his own dick throb in his jeans, desperate for attention. Pumping his hand, he turned his face, his cheek rubbing along Castiel stubble before they were kissing, hard and rushed, tongues slipping over one another, while hands curled along Dean’s waist and like he was nothing lifted him to meet every motion of the angel’s hips.

The wings were on either side of them, keeping Dean’s free arm confined and unable to go for the ky in the nightstand. The stupid wing seemed to get the message though and tried to pull back, away from Castiel's and the angel made a sound far too close to a growl, pressing Dean into the bed hard and making him gasp out, head tipped back.

“F..Fuck Cas, I gotta, need to get…” A low noise answered him and Castiel pulled back, eyes dark and intent and it was girly how much it affected Dean. The black wing over his own finally shifted, opening wide and Dean’s immediately jerked free, smacking the nightstand and down went the lamp. Dean would care later, right now he just fumbled to fish into the top drawer and find the little bottle. When his fingers touched it, he pulled it out Castiel seemed to remember what sex was all about then. Sitting up he made some room between them and went straight for Dean’s jeans. With single-minded efficiency he had them and his boxers peeled down and off in record time. Looming over Dean, still fully dressed, coat and all, while he had nothing but his skin.

Popping the cap with his thumb Dean squeezed some onto his fingers before letting the bottle fall to the carpet. His wing lifted up sharply, banging the wall painfully, like when you knock your funny bone and Dean winced as the thing flapped clumsily. Castiel took in under his own again in a single nimble motion and the contact seemed to sooth the dumb thing and Dean couldn’t help but snort.

“Castiel, the wing whisper,” the joke went over the angel’s head but Dean smirked at it, liking that he could still confuse the all knowing being above him. But then Castiel reached out, taking his slicked fingers and guiding them between Dean’s spread legs and the amusement was forgotten.

Unceremoniously Castiel lifted one of Dean’s thighs, parting his legs wide so he could see as Dean reached down to slick himself open. Most people weren’t interested in this, wanting the sex without having to see every dirty detail, but Castiel was obsessed with it. Lying back, Dean watched him as those blue eyes locked on his fingers. Easily he rubbed along the ring of muscle, slicking it up good before he pressed two fingers in carefully, sliding up to his knuckles and he felt the slight ache. It hadn’t been too long since their last romp and his body easily relaxed, letting him work his digits. Castiel’s fingers touched the back of his hand first, sliding along his skin until a finger rubbed where Dean’s were buried, parting his fingers he opened himself up and felt the angel slid his own digit in with his.

“Fuck,” God, when did he become such a whore for this? He wondered idly, feeling his body being opened as Castiel led the motions of their joined fingers.

“Now, Cas, want it now-” He managed to grit out, hips lifting to meet every motion and Castiel made one of his low, ‘you’re gonna get it’, noises and took their fingers out of his body. Strong hands grabbed his thigh and waist, yanking Dean down until his body was mashed against Castiel. Dean watched silently as Castiel pushed his pants further down, his cock jutting out, the tip shiny with pearls of pre-come and Dean wanted. Thankfully there was no waiting, Castiel lined himself up, the thick head nudging along the curve of his ass, leaving a wet trail as he pressed up against Dean, pushing insistently. The first give was the best one, when they could both feel the muscle giving up, letting the angel push into the tight heat. Of course Castiel was locked on, watching with rapt fascination as he disappeared into Dean.

For the first time, Dean felt the dark wings sprouting from Castiel’s back shiver. Reaching out, he snagged the tie, loosely hanging around the angel bent over him and tugged, making him look up at Dean. For a brief moment they locked gazes and something utterly schmoopy passed through Dean. Then he untucked his one leg still pressed to his chest, sliding it down, under the coat the angel was still wearing and he pulled sharply, digging his heel in the small of Castiel’s back.

“Come on.”

Dean was on his back, the angel kneeling over him, and he knew Castiel could ignore the motion, remain untouched but he let the action move him, nudging him forward a touch. Dean felt himself, slicked up and slowly filled as Castiel kept moving until he was all the way inside, hips butting the curve of Dean’s ass.

Castiel’s wings were the ones being deviant now, shifting and fluttering against Dean’s own while the vessel the angel wore was perfectly still, waiting for the all important go ahead.

“Okay, fuck, do it,” before he was even finished the sentence Castiel was moving, yanking back and snapping his hips back in with small tight motions. Castiel leaned in, forcing Dean’s leg wide as he laid back and just took it. His free leg joined his other around Castiel’s waist, pulling him into every lunge as the bed creaked and the headboard banged.

Dean could feel his wings jerking, moving restlessly and Castiel’s were mirroring them, twitching and jerking as the loom over them, framing his head as Dean stared up at him. Blue freaky intense eyes locked on his face as he pound him into the bed. Grabbing the lapel of the always-present coat Dean wrenched him down, kissing him hard and sloppy while he winded his arm around his neck and held on while the angel of the lord fucked him viciously.

Sometimes Dean wondered if Castiel was so damn adamant that he top because he knew how much Dean fell apart under him, how much Dean needed to be able to fall apart in something, anything, in his chaotic life.

Castiel slid his own arm under Dean, fingers finding the thick muscle of one of the wings and curling into it, gripped it at the base and using it for leverage to yank Dean down into each thrust.

“Fuck…” Dean gasped out, arching his back and tightening his legs on Castiel’s waist. His own cock was pressed between them, rubbing up against their bare stomachs and the friction was perfect as his body yielded, giving up everything it had as he was rode hard and rough. 

He felt torn open, exposed and fucking vulnerable and Castiel just took it all, made Dean give it up. The wings were straining, trembling and fluttering, Castiel’s own snapped open, arching out, big enough to hit the ceiling and Dean’s jolted back, knocking the night stand over and smacking something on the other side of the bed, things crashed down and the bed springs squeaked with the headboard slamming and Dean’s moaning like a fucking whore, fingers digging as hard as they can into the flesh of Castiel’s neck. Arching up he shoved back mindlessly and felt the heat in him finally uncoil, everything tumbling down. The angel didn’t even have to touch his dick, Dean got off from being fucked alone and he opened his mouth in a soundless yell as he spilled over his stomach.

Castiel leaned in close, tempo never faltering as he pressed his face against the crook of Dean’s neck while his fingers bit into Dean’s hip, guiding his obedient body as Castiel sucked in uneven breaths. The motions lost their rhythm and gasps and grunts were pressed into his skin. Dean threw an arm around the angel’s shoulders, finding the same place at the base of Castiel’s wing where he was still holding onto Dean and he curled his hand, holding tight and the action was all the angel needed. Dean could feel the sudden slickness, every time Castiel thrust into him the motion was easier and he knew he was being filled up.

Thick pulses inside him as Castiel closed his eyes tightly and seemed lost in sensation. For a moment his body froze up and then with a long exhale his muscles relaxed and he pretty much collapsed on Dean’s chest, forcing a grunt from the man. 

 

They’re both sweat slicked and the sheets under Dean were soaked, the aftermath still rolling through them as Dean turned his face and pressed his chin in Castiel’s messy hair. His grip on the dark wing had eased up and was now a gentle hold, fingers idly dragging through the downy softness of the feathers. Castiel’s own hold is more lax too, the hand on his hip sliding to curl around Dean’s middle while the hand on his wing moved out to the inside curve, stroking his palm flat over the feathers. After a moment Castiel shifted, and Dean could feel him pulling free from his body, the wet dribble of come following as the angel dropped down a bit lower, head on Dean’s stomach as he just laid there.

Dean knew the angel doesn’t sleep, doesn’t need recovery time but he kept his mouth shut as they both lazed there. The room looked like a disaster area, the nightstand was cracked on one side and it smashed the lamp even worst then before, Dean’s jeans were thrown over the other bed’s headboard and the bed beside their own was actually shoved to the side a bit, Dean had no clue how that happened. There were a few stray feathers all over the room, both dark blacks along with white and browns. It looked like something horrid happened to a bird and the bastard gave a good fight as he went down.

“So was this you trying to show me basic control of these things, trying to distract me, or getting so horny that you just jumped me?” Eyes trained on Castiel’s face Dean felt a sure of smug satisfaction when he caught the almost sheepish look ghosting over his features.

“I did not expect this, I was… caught off guard when I saw you, Sam did know to mention the presence of wings,” the excuse only drew a slow grin from Dean.

“Dude, you’re totally hot and bothered for these things,” he leered and Castiel didn’t bother to try and protest, his own wings were lax and rested comfortably over Deans, both pairs lying limp along the bed and floor.

“It shows great trust, it’s clear your wings are reacting on instinct alone,” Castiel muttered, watching his left wing flutter and Dean’s react, nudging back gently. 

“Chick flick aside, I thought you already knew that,” dropping his head down, Dean felt the sheets starting to get disgustingly cold and he was about to suggest they move when he heard the blare of his cell phone. Fumbling around, Castiel had to sit up so he could turn his one wing bumping his face as it moved so he could reach under the bed and grabbed the phone.

“Sammy?” Dean slumped back onto the cold sheets with a grimace but it let Castiel resettle on him, the angel was a little sloth like after sex and Dean couldn’t help but humor him.

“Dean, how’s it going? You sound way calmer, I take it Cas found you?”

“You try waking up with freaky ass wings,” Dean shot back and could picture the face Sam was making as his younger brother tried to process that.

“Wings? Dude no way.”

“Way. Also I have no freaking control of them, sons of bitches totaled the motel,” the sudden laugh on the other end made Dean grin, worth admitting his wing had owned him.

“Oh man, I have to see it, can I see them? Well I can’t if I didn’t see them this morning right?” Dean lifted a brow at Castiel knowing full well he could hear Sam perfectly.

“I imagine with practice it might be possible,” he answered without opening his eyes and Dean couldn’t stop his hand from carding through Castiel’s messy hair.

“Cas says you might, once I master them or something. But for now no human eyes can see the suckers.”

“Oh god Dean, this is hilarious,” Sam laughed out suddenly, deep and long like he hadn’t in a while. “You. Dean, terrified of getting on a plane, now have the ability to fly.”

“Oh fuck you man, I might have the ability but I’ll never fucking ever leave the ground,” Dean groused as his bother yucked it up on the other end. Castiel lifted his head then, eyes calculating in a way Dean did not like one damn bit.

“No god damn way,” he repeated, perfectly certain of that one fact. 

 

“Fuck,” Dean tried to snarl it but it came out more like a whimper among the hard whip of the winds around him.

“Dean,” the low amused edge in the angel’s voice was not only rankling but down right insulting. Dean felt fully justified in gripping him tighter, knowing his strength was steadily increasing to an angels level and even if Castiel didn’t show it, he knew he was feeling it.

“Trust your instincts, they will help you.”

“I wasn’t born with them, I don’t have any instincts.”

“Just try,” Castiel’s tone held an edge, his slowly patience waning and Dean clutched harder in case the angel tried a radical teaching method, but gingerly he gave it a try. Spreading his wings out like he’d practiced for weeks on the safety of the blessed ground he felt the wind pull them immediately and he hissed painfully at the sheer strength of it. Castiel’s own wings lifted them with graceful motions until the wind was more bearable. Opening them again, he let Castiel coax him, instructing calmly and letting Dean cling.

“Why does it have to be this high?” Dean hissed, eyes locked on the ground that seemed miles away.

“It will take you a very long time to fall, I would catch you long before you came close to the earth,” Castiel explained, his voice carrying the comforting strength behind it. “Now try again.” He commanded and Dean’s fear kept him from protesting. If he could get through this and convince Castiel to take them back down soon, he’d kiss the dirt and never let the angel drag him up to the clouds ever again.

Despite the occasional slow even motions of his wings, motions that where keeping them up in the air, Castiel still brushed his wing tips along Dean’s own.

“I’ve got you,” he assured Dean steadily, his tone softening slightly as he gave what Dean was sure he deemed pointless reminders, simply for the sake of comforting the human gripping him fiercely. The gesture was kind of embarrassing, but Dean was slowly letting himself just accept the chick flick moments, at least the ones where no one was around to witness them. The angel was steadily undoing all his hard work setting up a strong emotional block and Dean was beginning to get that he wasn’t nearly as dead set against the quiet moments as he tried to portray.

Castiel shifted when a sudden gust of wind knocked them, sending them into motion. His grip on Dean’s forearm loosened a bit as if he considered letting Dean try without both arms firmly on Castiel like a lifeline and Dean grabbed at him franticly.

“If you drop me I swear I’ll never forgive you,” he warned, pansy thoughts thrown aside in favor of self-preservation as he shamelessly clung to Castiel like a barnacle. 

Dean had his pride, but this was not one of the times it would win out.

Flying lessons.

How the hell he had let himself be suckered into this?

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gods. This was supposed to be for the xmas exchange but it's soo freaking late. Not only were there a million minor issues with getting it in but the fic itself fought me so hard. I feel so, so bad about how late it is because it was for someone and not a random prompt fill. I'll never join an exchange again because I become the loser who is stupid late. I've learned that I can't seem to write anything decent about cannon Dean and Castiel. I've read so many awesome fics that pull it off but when I try it feels out of character and awkward. This is the eigth re-rwrite but I'm satisfied with this more than anything else. I'm so, so sorry otp_destiel , I fail.


End file.
